Chapter 14
Chapter 14 of Farewell Nicola by Guy Boothby This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 14 Next day, much to Gallagherty's sorrow, we suddenly brought our stay in Venice to a conclusion, and set off for Paris. The Queen of the Adriatic had lost her charm for us, and for once in our lives we were not sorry to say goodbye to her.
The train left the station, crossed the bridge to the mainland, and was presently speeding on her way across Europe. Ever since the morning, Miss Trevor's spirits had been steadily improving. She seemed to have become her old self in a few hours, and Glenn Bath's delight was beautiful to witness. He had been through a good deal, poor fellow, and deserved some recompense for it. We had been upwards of an hour upon our way, when my wife made a curious remark.
Oh, good gracious, she said, in a hurry to get away, have we quite forgotten to say goodbye to Dr Nicola. I saw Miss Trevor give a little shudder. Do you know, she said, I had such a curious dream about him last night. I dreamt that I saw him standing in the courtyard of a great building on a mountainside. He was dressed in a strange sort of yellow gown, not unlike that worn by the Buddhist priests, and was worn almost to a shadow, and looked very old.
He approached me, and taking my hands, said something that in the commonplace light of day, doesn't seem to have much sense in it. But I know it affected me very much at the time. What was it, I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. It was this, she answered. Remember that I have forgiven.
It is for you to forget. What he had meant. Since it is only a dream, it is impossible to say, observed my wife, and thus saved me the danger of attempting a solution. To bring my long narrative to a conclusion, I might say that the Duke and Miss Trevor were married last May. They spent their honeymoon yachting to the West Indies.
Someone proposed that they should visit Venice, indeed the Earl of Selingbourne, who had lately purchased the Palace of Livici, and had furnished it, by the way, from the Tottenham Court Road, place it at their disposal. From what I have been told, I gather he was somewhat ill pleased, because his offer was not accepted. When the wind howls around the house at night, and the world seems very lonely, I sometimes try to picture a monastery on a mountainside, and then in my fancy I see a yellow-robed, mysterious figure, whose dark searching eyes look into mine, with a light that is no longer of this world.
To him I cry, farewell, Nicola. End of chapter 14. End of farewell, Nicola. Recorded by Peter Keeble. Nottingham, United Kingdom. End of chapter 14.
